An Understanding of Two
by Dusked
Summary: Draco's view on Malfoy Manor, and how he holds a slight interest towards a certain Gryffindor, caring more than he would have previously thought. One-shot. DMxHG, during Hogwarts-era.


_Well, here is my third Dramione. It is a short one-shot of Draco's POV during the Malfoy Manor scene in DH. Most of the dialogue is taken from the book, so it does not belong to me. I hope you enjoy. _

_Again, as always, thank you to my beta - reader93. _

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_**An Understanding of Two**_

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Her scream could be heard amidst many others.

It was not some weak whimper, nor was it a loud crying out, but it was one painful scream; the one continuing shriek that would freeze blood, strains throats, and twist the gut of any living person until it was wrung dry.

Draco screwed his eyes shut and clamped his hands into painfully tight fists as he tried to block out the destroying noise, but he thought – no, _knew _that even if a silencing charm had been put up, it still wouldn't be able to cancel out her screams.

He could've sworn he felt the warmth of his blood against his fingertips when he clenched his fist tighter when she started whimpering on the floor once the Cruciatus curse was lifted from her writhing body. "How did you get into _my vault_?" His aunt Bellatrix screamed into Granger's face. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you? _DID HE_?"

She was sobbing now, as it was the only physical thing possible to do, the chorus of cries forming in an uncontrollable and blubbering mess. "No, _no! _We only met him tonight, I swear! We've never been inside your vault! The sword – it's a copy!"

The piercing screech that Bellatrix released seemed to rip through his eardrums, and made an unsettling knot twist in his stomach. "A _copy?_" She barked a dry laugh. "Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" his father butted in, and the knot in Draco's stomach tensed. If his father was now in the conversation, that meant –

"Draco," Bellatrix ordered. "fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether or the sword is real or not."

His eyes snapped open, which he would live to regret as he saw the pale and slack form of Granger strewn across the marble floor. He had to swallow bile when he saw the _Mudblood _scar carved in her arm, and the dirt and bruises that smeared her face.

He only just registered his aunt's request, yet he hesitated; it felt as though his feet were cemented to the floor. Bellatrix's head twisted towards him sharply. "Go, Draco, we haven't got all day! _Now!_"

Flinching, he quickly scurried down the steps and pulled out his wand. When he reached the door, he held his wand up, roughly making out the silhouettes in the darkness. His voice was shaky and uneven due to the petrified feeling that cut through him. "Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!" The threat held no promise, and his arm trembled uncontrollably. But now he couldn't care less if he looked weak and vulnerable because it was exactly how he felt.

He could see the lights go out in the back of the room, but he marched on anyway once the door flew open, and he grabbed the goblin by the arms and dragged him back out, slamming the door shut and locking it. He was still shaking when he handed the goblin over to Bellatrix.

While his aunt begun to scream an interrogation, Draco swiftly glanced down at Granger, who was was barely stirring, but the steady rise and fall of her chest assured him that she wasn't dead. He didn't _want _her dead. He didn't even want her to be tortured.

And when her gaze had flickered to his, he had jerked ever so slightly, as it had felt like he'd just been sucked in, and was trapped into her pain, her torment and agony – both emotional and physical, and he couldn't bear it, his heart hammering at an unnatural speed and beads of cold sweat sliding down his back. Using all his strength, he tore his gaze away before his knees would buckle under him and he'd end up collapsing to the floor with her.

Even when he fixed his eyes to the floor, he could still _feel _her pain, like waves smashing into him over and _over _again; no matter how much he tried to block them out. It was excruciating, and it could've been the air or tightness of fabric that was choking him as he tugged slightly on his collar.

A loud crack snapped him back to awareness, the sound vibrating through the hall. All heads lifted, even Granger's head twitched.

"What was that?" His father shouted, despite the fact that it had returned to the eerie silence, turning around slowly to find the source. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"

"Draco!" He jumped again at the sound of his name. "Call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

He didn't hesitate this time and crossed the room, and went to a door that opened to a hallway. Cracking it open, and after taking a deep breath, he hissed quietly, "Wormtail!"

There was a scuttling sound and the servant quickly rushed into view, nearly tripping over in the process. He stopped in front of Draco and gave a small bow. "Y – yes?"

Draco grabbed the scruff of his tattered robes and hauled him forward. "Go down to the cellar and check if anything is happening. Now."

With another shove, Wormtail jogged across the hall and disappeared down the steps. Walking back to take his place next to his father, he heard the questions that Bellatrix was firing at the goblin.

"Well?" she asked. "Is it the _true _sword?"

A moment passed. "No," the goblin finally answered. "It is a fake."

"Are you sure?" she asked again, her voice rising with each word. "Quite sure?"

"Yes."

The tension on her face vanished. "Good," she said, and with a casual flick of her wand, another deep gash slashed across his cheek, and he dropped to the floor with a yell. "And now," she said with triumph, "we call the Dark Lord!"

Draco's heart froze in his chest, like a heavy rock, plummeting to his gut. He watched as she yanked up her sleeve and pressed her finger to her mark, a gleeful cackle bursting from her lips. He was nearing on the verge of vomiting.

The room darkened, and he knew within a few seconds, the pale and revolting body of The Dark Lord would be standing in front of him, and he felt the involuntary shiver ripple up his spine that had not been from the room's frigid temperature. He heard his aunt speak again, yet this time she sounded quite bored.

"And I think," she said, kicking Granger's quivering form, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

At this, Draco felt himself take _one _step forward, as if something deep inside him was telling him to _do _something, to _try _and stop it, even if it resulted in his own death, as well as hers. Thankfully, the movement had gone unnoticed from the excited and anxious atmosphere of the room.

He was unconsciously reaching for his wand when a roar sounded from behind him, and he spun around to see Weasley sprinting towards them. He watched, shocked, as his aunt pointed her wand at him.

"Expelliarmus!" Weasley roared, and Bellatrix's wand was knocked from her hand before she could cause any damage or destruction.

On defence, Draco joined his father and mother firing spells at Weasley and Potter who had ran after. His father was soon stunned from Potter's stupefy spell, and then he rolled behind the nearest sofa for shelter to avoid the shooting of lights.

"STOP OR SHE _DIES!"_

Panting, Draco managed to see from the corner of his eye Bellatrix supporting a semi-conscious Granger, holding her short silver knife to her throat. He faltered slightly. A thin line of blood was already beginning to form at the point that was digging into her skin.

It wasn't dirty. Truth be told, he hadn't really believed that it was since he had seen just how cruel these prejudiced people were.

"Drop your wands," Bellatrix whispered, pressing the knife in harder, and Granger struggled weakly in her hold. "Drop them, or we'll see how filthy her blood really is!"

Both Potter and Weasley stood rigid, and in his mind, Draco was _screaming _and _cursing _for them to drop them before they watched their best friend _die. _If he weren't such a coward or frightened little boy, he would have either gone over to them both and ripped their wands away, or pull Granger away. Neither were really options.

"I said drop them!" she screeched, and more beads of blood began dripping from the fresh cut. It wasn't yet deep enough to cause fatal damage, but it wouldn't take that much longer before it got to that extent.

After another painful moment, both wands clattered to the floor. "Good!" Bellatrix leered and she peered over at Draco. "Pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! You death approaches!"

He quickly scrambled to the floor, picked them up and hurried back over with the wands. "Now," Bellatrix said softly as she snatched them from Draco's grasp, and he supressed a shudder when his hand touched hers. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."

At the last word there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of them looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Bellatrix was directly beneath it; dropping Granger, she threw herself aside with a scream.

The chandelier crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of Granger and the goblin, who still clutched the sword of Gryffindor. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions, and he doubled over when he suddenly felt sharp pain stab at his face, the warm blood slipping through his fingers.

Through blurred vision, he could make out Weasley pulling Granger out of the glass wreckage, but Potter trying to wrestle the wands from his grip soon replaced it. He didn't even _bother _trying to fight, as there was no point. If he gave up the wands, then that meant there would still be a chance for all of this to end.

He couldn't make out much, what with the blood in his eyes and the blocking of his ears, but he managed to hear the thuds of bodies hitting the floor from either being killed or stupefied, and the squeaking of a house-elf's voice as his aunt screamed and roared. He didn't know how long it had taken, but all the prisoners had huddled in a group, and his eyes found her, and – and she was looking at _him. _

He didn't know why she was looking at him with such a calm and collected expression, and he didn't think he ever would know. But it was as though everyone else in the room had been blacked out, and they were the only two. And there was some flicker in her eyes, and it took a moment for Draco to decipher the look.

It wasn't love. Merlin no.

It wasn't even showing a liking for each other.

It was more of a mere understanding of one another, in which they knew exactly how it felt to be in this war together. How destroying it was, and how every day and every sleepless night they'd worry if they would die the next day. They were two inexperienced teenagers that were in the middle of this war that they never would have wanted to be involved with. She was the _only _one who really found that in Draco.

And then she _nodded_ at him, something so subtle that if he had blinked at that moment he wouldn't have caught it, and he found himself nodding back, as a way of saying _it's okay, _and that despite the situation and the sides of bad and good for the two of them – _it didn't matter right now because we are the _same.

_Understanding. _That was it, and it was all they both needed.

She was about to leave any moment now, but it wasn't the end, he hoped. That as soon as this was over, they would meet again, even if they didn't speak to one another, even just in passing. It would be _enough. _

It was time.

With the last lingering look and a crack, all was gone but the layer of dust that swirled the spot where she had once been.

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**the end**

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_thank you for reading, again._


End file.
